Fever
by Javahna
Summary: Jak is struck down by a terrifying sickness, but as it spreads through the city and his friends, can he recover in time to save them? Chapter 9 finally up, 2 years after starting this... Sorry!
1. Chapter 1

Twilight had fallen over Dead Town, the moons and stars just becoming visible through the gloom. Amongst the crumbling buildings and fetid water, one large pile of stone and shale dominated the horizon. This was where Jak was heading. Holding the Peace Maker at waist height, Jak advanced towards the heap, Daxter on his shoulder, looking around nervously.

It was quiet. Strangely quiet. Not one metal head in sight. Jak thought back to the message Torn had sent them from Underground HQ while they were at the Naughty Ottsell…

* * *

''Jak,'' Torn's voice crackled over the communicator as Jak sat with Sig in the Naughty Ottsell, ''something strange is going on, the Metal Heads are leaving the city. All the Underground scouts at the city walls are reporting it. Every single one, they're hading out into the Wasteland, assembling about halfway between Haven and Spargus, we're assuming that they are planning a mass assault on both cities.'' The massage broke up at that point, giving Jak chance to glance up at Sig, who looked almost as puzzled as Jak felt. The static continued for a few seconds, before Torn's familiar voice came back. "…nt you and Daxter to go to Dead Town, we might not know what the Metal Heads are up to, but we might as well take advantage, I think it's safe now for you to go there. The Metal Heads stationed there were guarding something. Samos told me that it is a Precursor Artefact of great value, called the Decagon, so I think you better take it. Just look for the highest pile of rubble, the Metal Heads built it to hide it in. Subtlety was never their strong point. Anyway, good luck Jak, not that you'll need it.'' Unnoticed, Daxter had left the bar and had listened to the entire message. He jumped up onto the table between Jak and Sig. 

"Yeah, good luck Jak, where's the 'good luck _Daxter_ I ask you. Besides why do I get the feeling that Torn's idea of safe and mine are sliiiightly different?'' Jak just looked at him as he took the blaster ammo Sig was handing him. Daxter visibly drooped,

"I thought we were done with all this hero stuff!'' He whined, "But oh _no _off we go again on another suicidal mission.'' Jak was used to this kind of conversation and didn't reply.

"Well, come on then, _sidekick_.'' Said Daxter jumping onto Jak's shoulder, Jak looked at him incredulously, then back at Sig, putting two fingers to his temple then flicking them away in a mock salute. Then he left, bound for Dead town.

* * *

His mind was dragged back to the present when he reached the mountain of rubble Torn had mentioned. He looked at the top, far above his head, then down at Daxter by his knee raising his eyebrows slightly. Daxter caught his gaze, and interpreted it correctly. 

"_Oooooh_ no. No no no no NO!''

"Alright.'' Said Jak nonchalantly, swinging his gun up behind his head, laying it across his shoulders with his hands resting carelessly across the ends.

"Well Dax, I guess if you really don't want to, you can stay down here and watch out for Metal Heads, and _I'll_ climb up.'' He could see he had Daxter persuaded. Reluctantly, an with many muttered complaints, Daxter walked forwards and hopped onto the lowest stone, what had obviously once been part of a house wall when people still lived here.

"You know, if I die doing this, I blame you _entirely_." And with that, he proceeded to scramble up the heap. Jak could see that this could take some time, so knowing that if what Torn said was true (which he had no doubt it was) there was no threat from Metal Heads, so he needn't remain on constant guard, he sat down on a rock nearby, placing the morph gun across his legs.

The lack of Metal Heads was unnerving, and all the swamp creatures had either been killed by the Metal Heads or scared away by them. Apart from the scratching of Daxter's claws on the stones, and the muttered curses and complaints when he lost his footing or banged himself on the rock, it was silent.

"This has to be the easiest mission we've ever done." Jak sighed leaning forwards and rubbing his forehead.

Night was really falling by now, and Jak wanted to get back to the Naughty Ottsell and his game of cards with Sig.

"Hurry up Daxter!" He called towards the pile. Daxter's head appeared between two stones about a third of the way up the stack,

"I am!" He yelled back in his most dignified voice, "I would like to see you climb this!" Jak looked back down at the ground as Daxter's head disappeared again, unconsciously catching the gun with his left hand as his change of position knocked it off balance and sent it slithering across the rock towards the ground.

He stared around the deserted ruins.

Wait; was that a flash of gold? In less than a second he was on his feet, the morph gun trained on the spot where he'd seen the Metal Head…A rustle behind him made him whip around, he could see now that shouting to Daxter had been a mistake – someone or something had found them.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I know that Jak probably would have just blown those metal heads to Kingdom Come as soon as he saw them, but can we just forget his anger manegement issues for a moment, just while you read this? Thankyou. **_

* * *

Jak stood completely still, watching the spot between the two rocks where he was sure he had seen it… Suddenly, from his left came a low guttural growl, and from behind him, and in front – all around him Metal Heads with chameleon like camouflage were becoming visible.

'So Torn was wrong, there are still Metal Heads around here.' Thought Jak bitterly, as he spun around, aiming his gun at each one in turn, but he knew, that however many he managed to kill in front of him, more would he appear from every direction, and he knew that even he could not hit them all at once, not even with the Wave Concusser, and the ones he missed would almost definitely reach him before he had chance to recharge his gun, and yet he must not let them know this… He turned around and back again, trying to keep his eyes on all of them at once, but it was impossible. The Metal Heads advanced, growling continuously, closing into a tight circle, all around him, wherever Jak looked, all he could see was glinting claws and fangs glistening with saliva. He waited, seeing if the opportunity to dispatch all the Metal Heads at once would arise. He released the safety catch on his gun, and took aim between the eyes of the nearest, and largest Metal Head, the only thought in his head was to take as many Metal Heads with him as possible, before one caught him off guard, or had faster reactions than him - which he knew was inevitable.

Meanwhile, Daxter was on the other side of the stone tower, blissfully unaware of Jak's predicament, maintaining a steady flow of curses and complaints as he climbed. He had reached a tricky spot – the next ledge that looked sturdy enough to take his weight was quite a long jump away, and Daxter was so busy trying to judge whether he could make it or not, that he could not hear any sounds from below at all….

Jak's finger was on the trigger, ready to deal a fatal blow to the Metal Head, but he stopped and lowered his gun as a very odd thought crossed his mind. These Metal Heads wee different – a normal pack would have savaged him by now, he would have died in a flurry of whirring claws and fangs, firing as fast as possible to try and save himself, so why was he still alive? He looked into the nearest Metal Head's leering face, and it started to _laugh. _Thiswas not normal, Metal Heads do not _laugh! _They have no emotions, they just well, kill things! But this one was definitely laughing, a horrible snarling sound, but unmistakable as laughter. And encased in the laughter, Jak was sure he heard it shout… "WEAK!" It roared between cackles. Jak just looked at it, afraid, but also…curious. Metal Heads do not talk. Raising his gun again, he took aim, but was again stopped as the Metal Head reared up onto its hind legs, standing quite steady, it pointed at him with its right paw. Jak looked around as the other Metal Heads stalked closer, decreasing the size of the circle, thoroughly cutting off any possible escape route, any possible weak link in their circle.

Jak returned his gaze to the largest Metal Head, the one stood on its hind legs, obviously the leader. Confused, he glanced at the paw pointing at the middle of his chest, but with a jolt, Jak realised that it was not a paw at all, this Metal Head only had three paws, the fourth, was a sort of gun attached to its front leg. Jak stared. Then the Metal Head spoke, and this time Jak was sure he hadn't imagined the words, hadn't got them confused with the sounds of their laughter. "I was _made _for this, Jak._" _It rasped. Jak had no time for confusion, for as the Metal Head finished speaking it uttered a loud howling war cry, and a glowing ball of light, the colour of dark eco, and about the side of a marble, left the Metal Head's gun, heading straight for Jak.

It seemed to approach in slow motion, Jak's eyes widened in shock as he realised what was about to happen. The pack leader leer turned to a look of snarling triumph as the purple light made contact.

Jak gasped as the glowing pellet slammed into his chest, the force of it knocking him off his feet, sending him staggering backwards to collide with the Metal Heads behind him. They laughed, the same snarling, rasping howl as their leader, and digging their sharp claws into his back, they shoved him roughly back into the centre of the circle, where he fell, gasping onto all fours. He had dropped his gun as he fell.

The Metal Heads all fell silent, every eye was on Jak as he pushed himself shakily into a crouch; keeping firm eye contact with the pack leader, holding it gaze to avoid it noticing his left hand as it wandered across the ground, searching for the morph gun. Metal Heads are easily distracted.

He was puzzled, the Metal Head had shot him, definitely shot him, and yet, he didn't seem to be dying nor bleeding, actually, after the initial shock of being blasted backwards into several Metal Heads with very sharp claws, and being quite severely winded, there was no pain at all. Having found the gun, he pulled it slowly towards him, flicking off the safety catch as he did so. The pack leader stared at him, keeping its gun arm steadily trained on Jak; it snarled threateningly. Supporting the gun with one hand and his knee, and keeping firm eye contact with the Metal Head, Jak ran his free hand over his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Can we just imagine here please, that even though this is set some time between Jak 2 and 3, that Jak has the wave concusser, because none of the guns in Jak 2 could have taken out that many metal heads at once. Please just keep this in mind._**

****

* * *

He expected to find blood running over his fingers, but all that there was there was a small hole burnt through his shirt, and the glowing ball, pressed against his skin. Pulling at the cloth, he tore his shirt so he could examine the damage. In the corners of his eyes, he could see the Metal Heads backing away.

"Damn." He muttered the side of his hand caught the area around the ball, where he could feel bruises rising. Jak closed his fingers over the ball, and tugged. Hard. It was all he could do not to yelp with pain, not only was the glowing ball firmly fused to his skin, when he pulled it, it glowed white hot, burning his fingers and his chest. He looked up at the pack leader, glaring. "What have you done?" He growled through gritted teeth, as the shock subsided and he began to feel the livid bruises around the orb, and, he suspected, a couple of broken ribs. But the pack leader only laughed at him, a laugh that quickly turned into a howl of triumph, which was soon taken up by the rest of the pack. But their euphoria was short-lived, unnoticed to them, Jak had climbed to his feet, and was, at that second, charging the Wave Concusser, the sound drowned out by the noise the Metal Heads were making. As the pack leader realise what he was up to, Jak looked up at him, and smiled. He released the trigger. A wave of energy rippled out from the gun, with Jak at the centre, killing the Metal Heads it passed over, and scattering the rest. But they had done their job, and did not return.

Panting, Jak stood among the dead creatures. Now the danger had passed, he turned his attention to the glowing sphere attached to his chest, which had now begun to pulse angrily, aggravating the aching bruises. Jak was utterly mystified – he had never seen, or heard about anything like this before, and the strange thing was, apart from the initial impact and the burns, it didn't seem to be doing him any harm…!

A sudden voice brought him out of his reverie. "Er…Jak? We have a problem. A veeeery BIG problem. Namely, THERE IS NO ARTIFACT UP HERE!" Suddenly remembering why they were there in the first place, Jak looked up towards Daxter – trying no to let his anxiety over the mysterious ball show on his face. He needn't have bothered, Daxter hadn't seen any of the encounter with the Metal Heads, and he assumed, being so close to the city wall that the sounds had come from outside it.

"What?!" He yelled back to Daxter in disbelief, unable to believe what he hoped Daxter hadn't just said.

Daxter scrambled half way down the heap, then slid the rest of the way on a strip of shale. He came to a rather ungainly halt at Jak's feet. Looking up at him, Daxter said: "Like I said, there's no artefact up there. C'mon, let's get back so I can give Torn a good kick up the…" He never got to tell Jak just where exactly he would like to kick Torn, for at that moment, he tripped over the tail of one of the Metal Heads Jak had killed, and skidded spectacularly along on his chin for a couple of feet. He sat up, massaging his neck, and pointed accusingly at Jak, "I just can't leave you alone for five minutes can I?" He stood up, and flicked some dirt off his tail. "Where did this lot come from? I thought Torn said…." But again, Daxter was cut short.

Jak dropped his gun with a clatter. He doubled over gasping with pain, his fingers scrabbling at his chest, every one soon burnt red and blistered. "JAK!" Yelped Daxter, sprinting towards his friend. But Jak pushed him away. "Dax!" He exclaimed. "Get back, argh, _no_ Daxter, get back" The sphere on his front was burning red hot again, scorching his chest and blistering his fingers as he tried in vain to remove it. Daxter stood helplessly as Jak struggled, his every attempt to help swatted away by Jak. He looked around frantically for the communicator, but he couldn't see it anywhere – they must have dropped it…

But even as Daxter watched, something seemed to be happening. From his low vantage point, Daxter could see the little, innocent looking orb through Jak's scrabbling fingers; cracks seemed to have appeared in its surface, showing an even brighter core. Daxter gasped and backed away frantically – white, dusty looking smoke was seeping through the cracks, engulfing Jak.

Jak saw the smoke creeping out of the tiny sphere. He redoubled his attempts to remove it, but to no avail – every time his fingers closed around it, it glower hotter and hotter, forcing him to let go. He tried to hold his breath and head for cleaner air, but the gas was everywhere; he couldn't escape it clutches. So, finally, when he couldn't stand the burning in his empty lungs, he breathed in.

The gas had no smell or taste, but it burnt his eyes, and his nose and mouth. He choked and spluttered as the gas seared his windpipe and lungs. It was like breathing in fire. Jak collapsed onto all fours, great hacking coughs wracking his body. His eyes streamed and his vision failed. Unable to see, Jak wheezed and gasped, barely able to draw breath, he coughed and retched, trying to rid his body of the gas, but it was no good, the gas seeped into his bloodstream and he rolled over onto his back, unconscious. The last thing he heard was Daxter calling for him.


	4. Chapter 4

Daxter ran forwards as a gentle gust of wind blew through the gas, dispersing it enough for Daxter to assume it was safe to pass through and go to Jak. He heart pounded as he remembered how Jak had coughed desperately, then…just fallen silent. Fearing the worst, Daxter called to him as he approached, but Jak didn't respond. As Daxter drew nearer, the little ball, now black and burnt looking rolled off Jak's chest, Daxter kicked it away, but not before he saw the damage it had left behind. Black and purple bruises fanned out across Jak's torso from the point where the orb had struck, and a small round circle of burnt black flesh showed the exact point of impact. Daxter suspected broken ribs. Turning Jak's hands over, he saw red shiny burns and blisters on every finger and thumb, and one on his left forearm where he had obviously tried to knock the sphere off, hoping the cloth of his sleeve would protect him. It obviously hadn't. Jak's eyes had rolled back into his skull, showing only white beneath his half open eyelids, and he was barely breathing. Daxter shook him, calling his name, but there was no response. Daxter was on his own. And it was up to him to save Jak.

Knowing that if he could get them back to the city, he could somehow get Jak onto a hover vehicle and back to the Underground Hideout. But they were not in the city, and Jak is much bigger than Daxter, who had no possible hope of carrying or even dragging Jak's limp form. Unable to think of a better plan, Daxter heaved Jak onto his side, hoping that he hadn't caused any more damage as Jak groaned softly…

He took the jet board, laid it flat on the ground, and rolled Jak back onto his back, so from head to waist, Jak was lying on the jet board. Daxter felt bad about leaving Jak's legs to drag on the ground and though the water, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. The most important thing was to get back to the Hideout, where Daxter hoped someone would be able to sort Jak out. He activated the jet board and hopped on, crouching on one side of Jak's head, checking that Jak was relatively stable and unlikely to slip off.

Daxter shifted his weight forwards gently, moving the jet board forward, heading back towards the city. He kept one paw on Jak's shoulder, hoping that he could keep him firmly on the board that way. They might have looked comical in another situation, but it would have been obvious to anyone if they had been there to see, that there was something wrong. They skimmed over the water and the dusty ground; finally reaching the security door that divided them from Haven city. Jak moaned quietly, opening his eyes slightly, Daxter looked at him anxiously, but Jak fell unconscious again within seconds.

Almost as soon as the doors were open, Daxter sped them through, deactivating the jet board the second it was hovering over the rickety wooden walkway on the other side. He winced as the board clattered to the ground; Jak sprawled on top of it. Without the communicator, Daxter still had to get Jak onto a hover vehicle on his own - for remaining this way, using the jet board, would be sure to arouse the suspicion of the Krimzon Guards patrolling the area. Daxter looked around for a likely looking vehicle. A green two seater heading their way caught his attention….

Using a combination of brute strength, the jet board, and Jak being almost conscious, Daxter managed to shove him into the passenger seat of the hover vehicle, which he had carefully positioned over the water beside the walkway. The hover vehicle's furious owner splashed towards them, shouting insults and threats, which mainly consisted of threatening to yell for guards. Daxter leapt into the driver's seat, deftly picking up the jet board as he did so. "You know, you citizens are _so ungrateful_!" Daxter yelled back to the man, as he changed hover zones, and sped away. They had left the morph gun behind.

The Hideout grew closer; Daxter looked across at Jak, who was slumped in the seat, his head lolling back. Rounding the final corner, Daxter switched to the lower hover zone, and carefully positioned the hover vehicle as close to the sliding door as he could manage.

* * *

Inside the Hideout, Torn, Jinx and Sig were gathered around the table, flicking through mission documents and poring over maps of Dead Town. "Where is he?" Torn growled into the communicator. "There's no artefact in Dead Town, why's he there?" Faintly, Ashelin's voice could be heard over the communicator.

"Jak left the Naughty Ottsell half an hour ago, he's gone to Dead Town, on _your_ orders Torn."

Torn banged his fist on the table,

"I never told Jak to go anywhere!" He threw the communicator down on the map he was looking at. "What the _hell_ is he playing at?" Jinx stubbed out his cigar on the table.

"Don't fret, he'll turn up." He said. "You to stay here, I'll go look for Blondie." Jinx strapped on his gun holster and picked up a communicator, and headed up the stairs towards the city.

* * *

Daxter turned the vehicle completely off, lowering it onto the ground. He hopped off on Jak's side, heaving his semi-conscious form onto the street. Jak staggered to the door, placing one hand on either side of the frame, leaning on it heavily as he waited for it to open.

* * *

Jinx was at the top of the stairs, waiting for the door to open.

* * *

The door opened fully, Jak remained leaning on the frame, breathing heavily.

"Jakey boy!" Jinx exclaimed as he saw Jak on the other side of the door. "I was just going to look for y…" But at that moment, Jak lost consciousness, and collapsed forwards. Jinx caught him under the arms as he fell onto him.

"Christ, Blondie!" He gasped, "What have you done to yourself?" Jinx struggled to stand Jak upright. "Torn, Sig! Get up here! Jak's back! But he's, argh…" Torn and Sig thundered up the stairs towards Jinx and Jak, Sig getting there first.

"Jinx, what did you do?" Sig grunted, trying to manoeuvre himself behind Jak in the confined space.

"What did _I_ do? He was like this when he got here!"

Now Sig was taking some of Jak's weight from behind, Jinx managed to push him up against the wall, where it was easier to hold him upright. Torn and Sig each took one of Jak's arms over their shoulders, and half carried, half dragged him down into the hideout, depositing him unceremoniously onto one of the beds. Panting, the three men looked down at Jak, unconscious on the bed.

"Daxter…" Muttered Torn.

"Torn, he's _Jak_ remember?" Said Jinx, looking at Torn.

"No, you idiot! We need Daxter, he'll know what happened"

"Ah." But they didn't need to worry, at that moment, Daxter stumbled into the room, dragging the jet board, and made straight for the half empty bottle on the table that Torn, Jinx and Sig had been drinking form. Torn strode over to him.

"Daxter, what's happened to Jak?" But Daxter just shook his head and took another gulp straight from the bottle. _"Daxter!" _Torn growled. But he was distracted from his interrogation by Sig.

"Oh my God." Using his knife, Sig had slit the front of Jak's shirt extending the rip Jak had created, throwing the severe bruising and obviously broken ribs into sharp relief. Tiny trickles of blood littered Jak's sides, where the Metal Head's claws had dug in. Sig heaved Jak into a sitting position, and Torn pulled off the rest of his bloodied and singed shirt.

"What do we do?" Questioned Sig, having no medical training whatsoever, Torn looked from Sig to Jak, at a complete loss - it shocked him to see Jak like this, invincible, constant, _indestructible_ Jak. But Jinx had the situation in hand.

"For Mar's _sake_." He complained, pushing Torn and Sig out of the way as he used a wet cloth to clean the cuts on Jak's sides, then set his ribs, and rubbed blue cream onto the burns. He straightened up, scrutinising his work. It was not brilliant, not even good. But it would have to do.

Sig picked up the communicator, and spoke into it, explaining the situation to everyone with his or her communicator turned on. He didn't reach many, but Ashelin and Samos said they would come as soon as they could, for as Samos said, Torn, Jinx, Sig and Daxter are woefully incompetent.

Finally satisfied that Jak was in no immediate danger, the three conscious men turned to Daxter. Having drunk most of the rest of the bottle, Daxter evidence wasn't exactly reliable, and not having seen some of the incident, it wasn't much help, but he explained as best he could about the purple orb and the white smoke. Torn sighed and leant back in his chair, glancing subconsciously ay Jak, who seemed to be asleep?


	5. Chapter 5

As promised, Ashelin and Samos arrived later. Torn sighed with relief. Samos headed straight towards Jak, while Ashelin approached Torn, asking what was going on. Daxter was sat silently near Jak's bed. Samos examined the simple first aid Jinx had administered, tutting softly. Using his green eco power, Samos set Jak's ribs properly. Everyone in the room looked up as Jak's ribs crunched back into place. Jak didn't stir.

Jinx, Samos and Sig were needed elsewhere that night, so they left, throwing apologetic glances at Ashelin and Torn as they filed passed. Daxter was asleep in his chair, slumped forwards and snoring softly.

Alone with Ashelin, Daxter and the lifeless Jak, Torn sighed deeply. He was confused. The Jak he thought he knew couldn't _possibly_ be rendered unconscious by a few broken ribs and some minor burns. Something else was definitely wrong. Torn knew it, and judging by the look on Samos' face as he left Jak's side, he wasn't the only one.

"I just don't understand it." Said Ashelin finally, voicing Torn's puzzled musings. "He shouldn't be unconscious with just those injuries." She glanced at Jak. "Something's wrong." Torn grunted, debating in his head whether or not he should tell Ashelin his theory. He decided he would.

"Well, it's obvious isn't it?" Obvious was not the first word to spring to mind thought Ashelin…but Torn continued. "Biological weapon." Comprehension registered on Ashelin's face. "The smoke Daxter mentioned, that must have been it. The only thing is, we don't know what it was, or who sent it."

Ashelin anxiously tapped her fingernails on her thigh, what Torn had said made perfect sense, and if what Ashelin had heard about the biological weapons used in the wars with Spargus many years ago held true, Jak could _die_… With this thought weighing heavily on her mind, she strode over to Jak, checking his breathing and pulse. He seemed to be hanging on. But she was not reassured.

She sat down heavily. She had nothing to say to Torn, and he didn't speak either. The hours trickled past, Torn and Ashelin taking turns to check Jak's vital signs every half hour or so. Daxter slept on, annoying Ashelin more and more with every sleepy breath.

It was Ashelin who finally noticed a change in Jak's condition. As she checked the pulse in his neck, she noticed that the skin felt much hotter than usual, and he seemed much more restless, shifting and twitching in his sleep. Ashelin put her palm over his forehead. It confirmed her fears. Jak had a fever. She called to Torn to bring a bowl of cold water and a cloth, and pulled the blanket back over Jak's waist where he had knocked it off. Daxter awoke with a theatrical jerk.

"Where's the yakow?" He muttered sleepily. Ashelin rolled her eyes, soaking the cloth in the water and placing it on Jak's head. Torn stood beside her, looking down at Jak as he stirred fitfully. Finally noticing that something interesting had happened, Daxter jumped up onto the pillow beside Jak's head, and took over holding the cloth from Ashelin, who instantly took out her communicator, calling Samos.

* * *

Samos was sat in Haven Forest, conversing seriously with a mighty oak tree, when the shrill bleeping of his communicator interrupted his concentration. Samos had always been slightly bad tempered, but he had had it up to _here_ with this Underground lot, calling him incessantly for the _slightest _thing, 'Oh, Jinx has cut his finger' 'Oh, Tess has banged her head.' Thought Samos, scrabbling in his bag for the infernal device. But on seeing Ashelin's name on the caller ID, his mood changed at once, it must be news of _Jak_…

* * *

Ashelin snapped her communicator shut. "Samos says he will be here as soon as he can." She looked seriously at Torn.

"You were right you know, Samos thinks it was a biological weapon." Torn who was taking the cloth from Daxter, about to take his turn at holding it on Jak's forehead, groaned.

'Typical.' He thought. 'My best fighter.' Then he instantly felt guilty for thinking of Jak like this, as a useful weapon, something he didn't want to lose, but only because it benefited him. He would never admit it, but he had begun to think of Jak this way more and more often. And he hated it. But with the war progressing like it was, and more and more of his fighters dying everyday at the hands of the Krimzon Robots, or the Metal Heads, he couldn't help it. Jak was the best hope they had, but with the chances of him returning safely from every mission falling every day, it was so much easier just to distance himself from him, then if one day, Jak did not return, it wouldn't hurt so much.

And so the night continued. Each of the three taking their turn to hold the cloth on Jak's brow. Samos had been and gone; announcing that there was nothing he could do for Jak, and so they would just have to wait and hope he pulled though. And so they waited. And waited. Samos's words echoing in their heads.

"_I doubt he'll make it through the night."_

Dawn was approaching. And Jak was worse. He was shivering violently, but beads of sweat ran down his forehead, and his skin was burning hot. He muttered incoherently, opening his eyes slightly, but didn't seem to know where he was or whom he was with. He repeatedly kicked the blanket off, and Ashelin patiently replaced it over his legs. All three still taking turns to hold the cloth on his head, still clinging to the vain hope that it would help to bring the fever down. But it didn't seem to be working. With every passing minute, Jak's condition deteriorated.

The sun finally crept over the horizon, sending watery rays sneaking through the streets of Haven, but Torn and Ashelin had no idea what was going on outside, or even what time it was. Ashelin was asleep in an armchair in the corner, Torn was trying to finish the plans he, Sig and Jinx had started before Jak arrived, and Daxter was sitting in the chair by Jak's bed, watching for any signs of change. They had long since given up with the cloth – it was obvious that it was not helping. Jak lay semi-conscious on the bed. He seemed slightly better than he had in the early hours, but he was far from recovered.

'Ha, Grandpa Green was wrong again.' Thought Daxter, as he checked Jak's pulse. 'He did make it.' But even with this small comfort, somewhere deep in his brain, Daxter was preparing himself for life without Jak.

By noon, Ashelin was awake, and Torn had long since given up working on his plans. He said it was because he was too tired to concentrate properly. But they all knew full well that it was because he was worried about Jak. Sig had returned from The Naughty Ottsell, bringing news that the Metal Heads had indeed massed half way between Haven and Spargus, and something else unusual had happened. Instead of just randomly attacking, fangs bared and claws sharpened, with no obvious plan or strategy, other than to kill anything that got in their way, with no concept of ambush, being surrounded, or being the last man standing, these Metal Heads seemed to be forming organised groups, with easily distinguishable leaders. It was decidedly odd. No one had ever heard of Metal Heads behaving like this before. But the group didn't dwell on this for long.

They were all still desperately concerned for Jak. It wasn't just that he was their best fighter, with a strange talent for finding the best way to dispatch even the most troublesome of enemy, and that without him and his invincible dark powers the war would be lost, he was their friend. Although terrified beyond comprehension at the thought of fighting the war without Jak by their sides, every single one of them, was scared more by the thought of life without Jak. And so, every one of them stopped by the hideout at least once that day, each employing what little medical knowledge they had, to try to help Jak. As the day wore on, Torn noticed how the excuses people had for stopping by were becoming more and more repetitive. He knew perfectly well that Jinx did not come to check how many explosives were being stored at the hideout, nor did Keira visit to see how many zoomers had been damaged in the last skirmish with the Krimzon Guard. But either way, Jak was still in danger.

Night was again approaching. And again, Torn was sitting in the Hideout watching Jak, but this time, he was joined by Keira and Samos. Which made it slightly more bearable, as he didn't have to worry about impressing Ashelin at every turn. Keira and Daxter were sat by Jak's bed, conversing quietly. Samos glanced at them, and sighed. He knew how painful this was for Keira, knowing that at any moment, Jak could be gone from her life forever. Torn was asleep. After all, it was hardly fair to expect him to remain awake for the second night running, when there was so obviously nothing he could do to help. Sighing again, Samos sat down. Again, he was puzzled. A normal fever should have broken by now. Especially in someone as strong as Jak. But, if his suspicions were correct, and what had finally got Jak was a biological weapon – it never would.


	6. Chapter 6

More and more time passed, and Jak didn't seem any better. It was the second day of the fever, and still, it showed no signs of breaking. Jak hadn't eaten or drunk anything for more than 48 hours, but as he hadn't properly regained consciousness in as much time, there wasn't much they could do about it. Still, they knew, that the longer Jak went without food, the less his chances of recovery.

It was on the third night, when Torn and Ashelin again found themselves alone in the hideout with Jak, counting down the hours until Keira and Samos arrived, and they could go to bed, that Jak finally came round. Ashelin was slumped in a chair, reading memos from a Krimzon Guard meeting that she had eavesdropped on, and later sneaked into the meeting room, and "borrowed" a copy of the minutes; and Torn was again poring over plans for a raid on the palace eco supply warehouse, when Jak awoke.

He shifted slightly in the bed, gaining consciousness now the fever had finally broken. Ashelin, thoroughly bored by the tedious document, looking for any opportunity to do something different, noticed first. She was by his side in an instant.

"Jak? Jak?" She said urgently, shaking his shoulder slightly, trying to get him to focus his bleary eyes on her face. He groaned and opened his eyes more, squinting at the sudden bright light. Torn finally noticed what was going on, and came over to Ashelin. Jak turned his head slightly to the side, watching Torn approaching. Suddenly, his eyes flashed fully open.

"SCUM!!" He roared, "KRIMZON GUARD FILTH!!" Torn recoiled, his eyes widened with shock. What was Jak doing saying something like that? He knew how Torn felt about his time in the Krimzon Guard. All his old insecurities came rushing back – was this what Jak truly thought of him? Torn stepped backwards, but Ashelin grabbed his arm, and pulled him back towards Jak.

"He's delirious Torn! He's delirious!" She snapped at him, crouching down by Jak's head, and dragging him with her.

"Jak?" She said to him, watching his eyelids flutter. "Jak, wake up." Jak stirred painfully, and opened his eyes again. He looked up into her face.

"Ashelin?" He murmured, trying to focus on her face. He tried to push himself up onto one elbow, but Ashelin forced him back down. Jak was too weak to resist.

"Rest. You need to rest Jak." She looked down at him with concern, as he lay weakly on the bed, his eyes shut again. Torn put his hand on her shoulder, he hated it, but he knew Ashelin cared for Jak.

"He'll be alright, just give him time." Ashelin shrugged his hand off, and sat down in the chair. She didn't look at Jak, nor did she look at Torn. She just wished that Keira and Samos would arrive, so she could go back to the palace and continue with her duties, where the only emotions she would need would be whether or not she would kill the Krimzon Guard that suspected her of traitorous activity. Then she felt angry with Jak. What right did he have to come back to the Hideout in this state? The worst injuries she'd ever seen him have were things like nosebleeds and bruises, she never thought it possible that one day something worse might happen to him. Then she felt angry with herself for thinking that. She knew it wasn't Jak's fault, and she was only putting the blame on him to avoid having to acknowledge her own emotions. She sighed and stood up, reaching for her gun holster and communicator.

"Where are you going?" Asked Torn as she headed for the door. "Keira and Samos aren't here yet!"

"I'm going back to the palace." Said Ashelin stiffly. "I'm sure you can deal with Jak on your own. He is unconscious after all." And with that, she left. Torn stared at the spot by the door where Ashelin had stood only seconds before, and shook his head in confusion – he really did not understand her.

Just then, the door to the Hideout's backroom opened, and Daxter appeared. He had heard Ashelin saying she was leaving, and had come to see whether anything interesting had happened, or whether Ashelin was just having a bit of a 'moment', as she often did. Torn looked up at him.

"Jak woke up. Shame you missed it." He still really hated that ottsell, and was in a decidedly bad mood after Jak's outburst, even if it was just the fever talking. Plus, the fact that his chest was hurting wasn't exactly helping.

Daxter jumped up beside Jak's head, deciding, with much mental effort, to ignore Torn. He lifted one of Jak's eyelids, felt his forehead, and then shook his shoulder.

"Hello? Normality calling Jak? This is Daxter call you oh Dark One." Just then, Jak's hand collided with the back of Daxter's head. Unnoticed he had raised his arm and hit Daxter. Well, Torn had noticed, but had forgotten to notify Daxter. Jak smiled slightly and opened his eyes.

"Right." Sniffed Daxter, massaging his head. "That's the last time I ever drag _you_ back here when you're too busy being unconscious to be heroic like you're _supposed_ to be!" Torn smiled, things were obviously getting back to normal.

'Good.' He thought. He had had quite enough of managing without Jak. He wanted his best fighter back. And his friend.

Jak laughed weakly, but the effort was too much for his damaged lungs. He lapsed into a fit of coughing, which took several minutes to subside. But, bravely, though admittedly rather stupidly, Jak tried to force himself into a sitting position.

"No Jak!" Yelped Torn, and pushed on Jak's shoulders until he collapsed onto the pillows again. "Keep still! You need to _rest_!"

"I…. I'm _fine_ Torn." Gasped Jak, his chest heaving from exertion. "I just need to….to, rest, for a minute, then I'll…." But Jak's words were lost, as the fight for air became too difficult.

"Yes, you need to just _rest_ Jak! You'll be fine, just lie still!" said Torn, reaching for the jug of water on the table. "Here Jak." He said, pouring some into a tankard by the bed. "Drink." Torn helped Jak to sit up slightly, and Daxter poured some water into Jak's mouth.

"Argh….urgh." Coughed Jak, as he spat the water onto the floor. Daxter looked at him, then into the tankard, eyeing its contents critically.

"Jak! Drink it!" Said Torn, taking the tankard from Daxter and brandishing it at him. But Jak's strength had given in, and he had sunk back onto the pillows with his eyes closed. "Jak?" Said Torn in a worried voice.

"I….I." Muttered Jak blearily. "I don't want it Torn. You drink it. It's disgusting." Torn drank some, then, he like Jak, spat it onto the floor.

"Ah, you're right…. I guess Veger's turned off the purification plant again… I swear, if I ever get my hands on him…"

"I'll shoot you." Said Jak quietly. Daxter and Torn looked at him incredulously – had the fever messed with his wits?

"Then," continued Jak, his voice barely audible. "I'll shoot _him_. I want the pleasure of killing him myself." Jak opened his eyes and smiled slightly at the looked of relief on Torn's face, and the look of blank confusion on Daxter's. He sniggered.

"Jak, you never fail to amaze me." Sighed Torn rubbing his forehead. "I'd just started to think you were normal -but not any more." Jak laughed out loud, but immediately regretted it as fresh coughs wracked his body.

"Christ Jak." Mused Torn. "Can you please take it easy? Samos will have my blood if you don't chill out." Jak smiled and sighed, rubbing his newly repaired ribs with the heel of his hand, favouring his blisters. Daxter pulled the sheet back over Jak's waist, where it had slid off.

"You," he said, pointing at Torn, "sit over there, and make plans." Torn looked daggers at him, but did sit back down by his plans. "And _you_," Said Daxter, jabbing his finger into Jak's chest, ignoring Jak's cry of protest, "lie down, shut up, and get better." Jak couldn't argue with that. Daxter leapt back onto the chair by the bed, as Jak sank further down into the pillows with his eyes shut again.

An hour later, Keira and Samos arrived. Keira went straight to Jak, and Samos went over to Torn, who hurriedly informed him of the lack of clean water, and the improvement in Jak's condition. Samos sighed with relief, then went over to Keira and Jak, and put his hand on Keira's shoulder. Jak was asleep.

"Don't worry, he'll be fine!" He said consolingly. Keira turned her head away, trying to hide her tears.

_Heh heh, sorry to all those of you who've been waiting patiently for this next chapter, it's finally done, please tell me if it doesn't make sense of if there's a paradox or something. I.e., review, now._


	7. Chapter 7

The Sun had risen and set twice, and Jak and Daxter were alone in the hideout. Ashelin still hadn't been back to the hideout since she had stormed out days before, and Torn was at the fortress door, eavesdropping on guards for any news of her whereabouts. Keira and Samos were at the race garage, and Sig was away on a mission for Torn. Daxter was asleep.

Jak looked around, Samos had completely forbidden him to leave the bed, but Jak never listened to Samos. He glanced at Daxter, who was still sound asleep, and swung his legs off the bed. He intended to get to the table, and look at the plans and maps Torn was working on, as he felt bad about not helping with the war effort, even though Torn himself had banned Jak from missions until Samos said he was able again. He stood up crookedly, leaning heavily on the bed head, and took a few shaky steps towards the table. Daxter slept on.

He made it to the table, and leant on it with one hand. Remembering why he went there, he looked down at Torn's plans. He tried to focus on the diagrams and Torn's awful handwriting; he traced the diagram of the ground floor of the palace with his finger, admiring Torn's attention to detail. He knew he couldn't read, and that he could not make the words out anyway, but he was confused as to why the lines on the page were dancing so, and why the table was moving. Jak looked up blearily, realising, that again, maybe Samos was right, and he should have stayed in the bed. The room lurched, and bright spots of coloured light danced before his eyes, he shut his eyes and bent over, leaning his hands on his knees to support himself, trying to take deep breaths, but struggling because of the pain in his chest.

Daxter was awaked by the sound of coughing. He opened his eyes and looked around groggily. The first place he looked as he rubbed his eyes was Jak's bed, hoping to check whether Jak was asleep or not. Noticing that Jak wasn't in it woke him up properly.

Jak felt Daxter's hand on his forehead, pushing his hair off his face.

"Jak, Jak buddy? What're you doing? You ok?" Jak coughed harder, his eyes screwed shut and his body convulsing.

"Daxter…" Jak wheezed, trying to straighten up. Daxter pushed his head back down and banged him on the back. It didn't help. The communicator was lying on the table within Daxter's reach – he seized it, just as the low battery sign stopped flashing, and it went dead; he threw it down onto the floor in disgust.

"Jak? Come on pal…." Daxter looked anxiously into Jak's face. Jak's coughing grew worse, and his hand went to his mouth.

"Ok, get back in that bed right now Jak, I'm going to get Sa…." Daxter stooped suddenly as he saw the blood between Jak's fingers. Horrified, he tugged Jak's hand away from his face, recoiling as he saw the blood running over his hand and his lips.

"What the…" Daxter was struck dumb, and made no effort to hold Jak up as his knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, still coughing. More blood bubbled out from Jak's mouth and nose – Daxter had no idea what to do.

* * *

_Gah, yeah, AGES since last chapter, so I am leaving this one short to put you out of your misery, so you get an update quicker. Heh, yeah. I bet you are SO thrilled._

_Hhhmmm, yeah, Jak can't read, I thought that would be an interesting idea, I mean, there's nothing really in the games that I can think of that says he can, or why he would need to, so I made him illiterate. So there. Please tell me what you think. And I don't CARE if you've already reviewed! Review again! It doesn't cost anything! And it makes me happy, and we all want that, DON'T we?!_


	8. Chapter 8

Ashelin kicked angrily at a stone in her path and dug her hands deeper into her pockets against the chill wind. The Sun had set, and rain clouds were gathering in the darkening sky, she looked up at them; daring them to rain on her. They took on the dare, and heavy, cold raindrops started to fall on her, running down her back and dripping off her hair. She tilted her head back in frustration, and turned her collar up, but as she peered through the rain for a quick way back into the city, she saw movement. Shaking herself, she started to head back to the city, but there it was again, that movement just out of the corner of her eye. Remembering her Krimzon Guard training, she continued walking for a few steps, then whipped around, ripping her gun from its holster as she did so. She saw what was following her, and her eyes widened in terror.

* * *

Keira held Jak's hair back as he spat blood into the copper bowl Samos was holding out to him. The moment Daxter had got Jak back into the bed; he had run for Samos, who was in a nearby safe-house talking with Torn, Keira and Jinx.

Keira and Samos had hurried back to the Hideout to find Jak spitting blood over the side of the bed. Secretly, Samos had no idea what was wrong with Jak, or what had caused the sickness, or how to cure it; he just had to hope that Jak would pull through, and that no one would ever find out about his lack of knowledge. Especially not Keira.

Jak slumped back onto the pillows with his eyes shut. Daxter, stood by his shoulder, peered into his face with concern. Beads of sweat stood out on Jak's forehead, and his lips were red with blood. Daxter sat down on the pillow, and sighed as he looked at him. Jak was conscious, and his breathing was deep, but Daxter could hear him wheezing, and every breath seemed to catch in his chest.

"Ok." Said Daxter, standing up and addressing Jak.

"Listen, you." Jak's eyes flickered open, and he looked at Daxter.

"I have had it up to here with you being ill." He took hold of the front of Jak's shirt and eyeballed him, their faces mere inches apart. "Get better. Now." Jak smiled at him, and sat up slightly, wincing as his broken ribs objected.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Look," He said, sitting up further, "I'm fine see?" Daxter raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, he's fine. I thought so." Keira laughed at the two of them, and pushed Jak back down.

"You will not be told will you? Rest!" She scolded playfully. Jak sighed; he hated staying in bed like this.

* * *

Ashelin pulled out her dagger from the Metal Head's jaw, and pushed the beast off, where it had fallen on her as it died. She stood up, wiping the creature's saliva from her face, and picking up her gun where it had been knocked from her hand. She really did hate Dead Town.

A strange noise, half way between a sigh and a groan escaped the metal head's jaw. Ashelin crouched down, and looked at its face; it seemed different from other metal heads, bigger, and it was a slightly different shape, and the shoulders were smaller in comparison to its body. Ashelin shook her head and turned away. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw dark eco starting to trickle out of it mouth.

The rain was heavier now, and night was falling. Ashelin decided to swallow her pride and return to the Hideout. She did, after all, want to check on Jak. She was stood in front of the door, waiting for it to open, when an unfamiliar and somewhat unnerving howl cut through the night air. She turned around slowly, looking back at the metal head she had killed. But it lay still. It was too dark and rainy for her to see the other metal head standing on the rubble behind it. Even so, she shivered and pushed through the door before it was fully open.

* * *

The Hideout door opened, briefly letting in the sound of the thunder and rain outside, only for it to be silenced again as the door slid neatly shut. Ashelin pulled her hair through her fist, squeezing out the water, trying to delay the time when she would have to go in properly. She sighed, then proceeded down the steps.

"Torn?" Is that you?" Came Keira's anxious voice. "Jinx?" Ashelin heard Jak and Keira whispering, and her heart beat harder.

The door at the bottom of the steps opened before Ashelin reached it, and Keira stood in the frame, pointing a gun up the stairs with shaky hands. "Don't move!" She called, seeing Ashelin move, but not realising who it was, "I'll shoot!"

With one quick movement, Ashelin had the gun from Keira, and had her pinned against the wall.

"I'd like to see you try, little girl." She sneered. She really was not having a great day.

The lights in the hall were Keira was struggling with Ashelin flicked on, and Jak stood in the doorframe, leaning on a wooden crutch.

"Uh, is everything ok?" he asked curiously. Ashelin dropped Keira like a hot pistol, and touched her hair self-consciously.

"Yes." She said breezily. "Everything's fine."

"Ah ha. I see." Jak looked quizzically at Keira, but she jut shook her head. He blinked, then, thoroughly confused, turned and headed back into the Hideout. Ashelin sighed, then headed after him, leaving Keira to glower at her from behind.

Torn and Sig came back later that night, to spend the night in the Hideout. Torn sat down by Jak's bed, and started to fill him in on the day's events.

"Metal Heads are advancing on the south side, and there just seems to be more and more Krimzon…" Torn faltered.

"Krimzon…" He stopped, Jak looked at him. Torn started coughing.

"Not you too chilli pepper!" Exclaimed Sig, launching himself towards Torn and banging him on the back. Jak sat up and looked anxiously at Torn.

"Torn? You ok?" Jak suddenly felt very strange. It was one thing him being sick with a mystery illness, but now he seemed to have given it to Torn too, which meant that maybe all of them would catch it, even Keira…

"I'm fine! It's nothing." Said Torn straightening up and swallowing the blood that had gathered in his mouth.

"Torn," Started Samos, "I really think you should…" He looked into Torn's eyes, and tried to put his hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

"Didn't you hear? I'm fine."

"Where've I heard that before?" Mumbled Daxter, just as Torn staggered sideways grabbing onto Sig to keep himself up.

"Torn, you are not fine." Stated Sig. "And I am not going to argue about it." He added as Torn opened his mouth to protest. Torn shook Sig off, and tried to steady himself, but he lost his balance again, as darkness closed in from the edges of his vision, and he lost consciousness. Jak stood up quickly and between him and Sig, they manoeuvred Torn into one of the other bunks.

"Now what are we going to do?" Asked Sig, as Jak sat down again heavily on his bunk, holding his head.

* * *

_Happy Christmas everyone! Another chapter for Christmas! And guess what? You get another cliffhanger! Ish. Well, sorta. But you'll live. Whatever. Now review._

_Happy Holidays Everyone! xx_


	9. Chapter 9

_H'ookkay._

_First things first: An apology.._

_Do you know how long it has been since I updated this story?_

TWO YEARS.

_That is just shocking. There really is no excuse for that. The main problem I am having now though is that I can't really remember how I was going to end this.... does anyone have any ideas? That is unutterably terrible I know, I can't believe I have forgotten, but it's been a long time and I've written a lot of other things since, but ermmm, I'll have a go and do my best. If I make any mistakes that don't make sense with the rest of it please let me know!_

_Anyway, here comes (finally) the next chapter!_

_That is if anyone is still interested._

_Which I hope you are._

_Anyway, I really am sorry :(. Here's the next bit anyway. Forgive me...?_

_Oh and also, I said this goes between Jak 2 and Jak 3 I think - it's just before the events of Jak 3. It's an interpretation of why the metal heads begin the attack on Haven in Jak 3. I think this is explained in the games actually, but hey, artistic license; this is an interpretation. It doesn't really matter, it's just fiction... Please tell me if that doesn't make sense. I'm clutching at straws trying to construct an ending for this now...._

**The Palace**

'I made you a deal!'

The half empty glass Baron Praxis was holding flew across the room, straight through the holographic metalhead hovering in the middle and smashed on the tiles. Erol pinched the bridge of his nose and stayed silent.

The metalhead growled. 'Your deal has expired.'

'This was nothing to do with me, nothing to do with anyone here. There isn't even anyone alive who still remembers those wars!'

'Perhaps. But it's your city now. Your responsibility.'

'I am not responsible for crimes committed before I was even born.'

There was prickly silence for a few seconds, Praxis and the metalhead staring each other down.

'How many will you kill?' Praxis said finally, an edge of steel in his voice.

'That depends,' the creature answered. 'How many will you save?'

Praxis stood up. 'I will not play your games _any_more!' he roared. 'Tell me what you want!'

'What,' the beast said, tilting its head slightly and... was it smiling? 'Tell you all my plans so you and all your little people can sit down and work out how to stop me? Is that what you want?'

'Just tell me what I have to do.'

'Just wait, Mr. Praxis, just wait.' The hologram started to fade. 'Just wait for the bells.'

**The Underground Hideout**

'Jak...'

'I'm here.'

'Jak...'

'I'm here, Keira.'

Jak now knew the meaning of last man standing.

Literally.

The room was burning up with fever. That's what Jak had come to think of it as now: The Fever.

**The Slums**

'You're very hot, love.'

'I'm fine.'

'Do you think you should maybe go home? Take the afternoon off?'

'Can't, can I? Got to get another eighteen hours in this week.'

'You don't look well...'

'I told you, I'm _fine_!'

**The Industrial Section**

'I've counted, eight missing, sir.'

'Where are they?'

'Ill. Some sort of bug going round.'

'Well I want them all back here tomorrow. This airship won't build itself.'

'Yes sir.'

**The Bazaar**

'What do you think it is?'

'Not sure. Some sort of flu maybe?'

'Flu doesn't make you spit blood.'

'Hush now. Run and find your grandmother, see what she says. I need to change these sheets.'

'Blood doesn't wash out.'

'Hush.'

**The Underground Hideout**

The itch of dark eco was stirring at the edge of Jak's mind. He clenched his fists. That itch would get worse and worse and there was only one way to cure it.

He looked at the door. It was open to try and tempt in a non-existent breeze from the oppressive humidity outside, but all that was coming in was moonlight. He was glad of that, it stopped the darkness. He'd turned out all the lamps to try and keep the temperature down. It wasn't working.

The water he was drinking was warm and didn't taste how it should. Sig moaned and rolled over, his arm thumping against the table. The rest of them he'd managed to move onto the beds, but he couldn't lift Sig by himself, so he'd had to leave him on the floor. He was sat on the floor leaning against Keira's bed, forcing himself to keep drinking and trying to keep his mind empty.

That wasn't working either.

He'd started this.

He'd brought this disease.

This was his fault.

Dark eco crackled with anger and guilt.

Three hours later nothing had changed. Keira lay behind him, dead to the world, Sig was on the floor now with his arms over his head, Torn was sprawled on his front over one of the beds with the blankets twisted round his knees, no shirt on and blood on his lips and pillow, Jinx was in a similar position on the bed next to his and Ashelin was curled up on the bed in the corner silent and shivering.

Jak didn't know where Daxter was.

Somewhere out in the city.

Strange, garbled and incoherent reports had been drifting in all day about cases all over the city. Some mysterious illness no one was acknowledging. People were trying to keep their heads down and carry on.

There had been nothing on the official news broadcasts.

Complete media silence.

Jak wondered how many were dead.

The itch was worse now.

His breathing had shortened and he couldn't ignore it anymore. He looked at the doorway again. How long had it been since he'd...?

He couldn't remember. Weeks.

That made it worse.

That made it hurt.

And it did hurt. Burning and aching and pulling. His hands were shaking and his breath rasped. How easy would it be just to... let go?

It was tempting.

It was the only thing that would stop this _torture_.

It was so... so easy.

_Don't_.

It hurts.

_Don't do it_.

He was on his feet now, somehow, bent double with his hands on his knees and his shoulders heaving.

_Outside. Get outside._

_No. NO. Stop._

A voice came from behind him. 'Jak...?'

He swallowed and fought for control.

Oh God he needed this. Holding on was like swimming against the impossible current. It would be alright, wouldn't it? He could control it, couldn't he?

A hand tugged on the bottom of his shirt and he whirled round snarling. It was Keira.

'Jak?' she said dreamily. 'Jak I need a drink...'

He couldn't make his voice work. Nothing seemed to respond to instruction properly. _This was all his fault_. A hotter, fiercer surge of eco shot through his head, forcing an animal snarl from his throat. He was that close, _that close_. And it felt terrible.

There were footsteps on the stairs.

Jak choked out half a sob. He was leaning on the table now with one hand pressed over his mouth and the other tight on the table, all the ligaments in his arm standing out.

'Jak?' it was Daxter's voice. 'Jak listen, it's all over the city. People everywhere have got it.'

Except to Jak it just sounded like he was talking from a long way away. There was nothing in his head now, nothing but darkness and pain and rage and flickering images of cold metal cells, green aether lamps, locked doors and days and endless weeks of terror and agony.

This had happened before. This inescapable burning. But every time before he'd been able to get away, been able to make it stop where no one could see him, no one could back away terrified, scream _freak_ or see the animal he'd become.

'Jak? Jak did you hear me?' Daxter jumped onto the table in front of him. 'It's everywhere, all over the city. Jak? _Jak_?'

Jak let out a cry somewhere between a sob and a howl of frustration and threw himself up the stairs out onto the street, banging off the wall and clutching his head with one hand.

_This was all his fault._


End file.
